


Literary Inspiration

by Songofpsalms297



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Other, Working really hard to keep this from becoming smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songofpsalms297/pseuds/Songofpsalms297
Summary: Varric and Cassandra have a confrontation about literature.





	Literary Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> This is an absolutely teeny drabble. But I have to post it. Anyone else notice their stories almost always turn from fluff to utter smut?
> 
> Just me, then. 
> 
> I am grateful for the community of writers here. Thank you for allowing me the absolute honor of being counted among you. 
> 
> I haven't spent the time polishing my writing that I should have with family and school commitments. So I apologize if anything about the following story's structure makes you twitch. I hope you all like it. 
> 
> I'm not sure how well this actually flows? Thoughts? Criticism?

          They say when you are in stressful situations all your senses become hyper-aware. He knows this is fact for multiple, sometimes tedious reasons. One reason he knows this to be true is in his current situation his nerves are strumming like a live wire. He can feel the texture of the oak door at his back. He snorts, 'rough hewn' indeed. He feels the whorls and etches in the wood, he bites back a curse as he feels the door catch at his shirt, tearing. He doesn't dare verbalize it though. He's not sure what she will do in retaliation, he's afraid to find out.

          He can feel the beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck. Andraste's tits it's hot in here. She looks ... composed. 

          Cassandra leans toward him, eyes glinting, sparks of something reflected in her eyes. Her hand shoots out to brace her against the door, a breath away from him. He's proud of his ability to not flinch in the face of potential danger. He can't hide the way she affects him. Maker's hairy ass, he'd stopped trying months ago, just praying she didn't stab anything vital. 

          Warmth rolls through him at her growl. She's as affected as he is, and she's safe enough to let him see. Andraste's tits she was going to be the death of him. His body thrills at how close they are. He feels her words, exhaled against his ear. Maker take him, he can't deny her anything.

          She's smug and confident, and just as aroused as he is but, Maferath's balls, she's entirely too unruffled for his liking. The way she's trapped him against his own door, her breath feather light where it kisses his skin, produces crowbumps from his head to his toes. He can't keep his breath steady when she's around. He's aroused and trembling. She's been taking cues from the Iron Lady or Ruffles.

          He wonders if she knows just how fiercely she sets his blood afire. The want in her gaze, the triumph. They'd come to this place during a rather heated conversation about his next serial, and whom would be a good character for him to research when she'd gotten that glint in her eye that simultaneously made him want to debauch her or surrender to her whims. 

           As long as he lives he will never forget the temptation in her eyes as she breathes her demand in his ear, "Make me your villain."

          The want and fire in his blood calls to her own answering response. "Done."


End file.
